Word: saloon
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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They all think that they are trapped in a saloon by a flood. So they wall up the windows, thereby concealing from themselves the true state of affairs outside, and then they make sundry efforts to preserve their morale. Then, it is not so much that the danger passes, as that they find that they never were really in any genuine trouble anyway. What they took for a flood was really only a cloudburst, and the hermetically sealed door and windows only served to make the room stuffy. The result of this blunder is a wave of cynicism decidedly more...
...when Patrick Kennedy was born in East Boston, U. S. clippers were carrying 66% of the nation's trade. By 1888, when Pat Kennedy was running a saloon in and the politics of Boston's Ward 2, ironclad steamers manned with cheap labor had sent U. S. shipping to Davy Jones's locker and only 13% of U. S. foreign trade was being carried in U. S. bottoms. That year Pat Kennedy...
...prefers to call Soviet secret police, went last week with Ambassador Davies in the special train put at his disposal to tour Soviet industrial centres in the primarily agricultural Ukraine. His private car, furnished free by the Government, was what Russians now know as a "Commissar's Saloon Car," for really big Reds today have a private car thrown in with their State jobs. There was an ordinary sleeping car for the NKVD and correspondents, another for the Davies party to use at night and a diner in which all food was exclusively the quick-frozen U. S. product...
...pilot boat in the harbor, modern readers recognized the Hearst touch for nature yarns. The coverage by the Examiner of San Francisco's earthquake & fire made good reading in 1906, good retelling in 1937. Cried City Editor Jack Barrett to staftmen as he scuttled from a saloon at 5:20 a. m. on the morning of the earthquake, "Boys, it looks like the end of the world!" Oldtime San Francisco Hearst-readers recalled this light-hearted spirit as typical of the early Examiner in the days when young Publisher Hearst would hire a special train to get his news...
...Union City, Tenn. a gaunt man staggered into an all-night café to get a bowl of chili, was jailed for drunkenness. Bailed out next afternoon he was found to be Methodist William Gilbert Gaston, field secretary of the Tennessee Anti-Saloon League. Leaguer Gaston objected that he had been framed by Wets, protested: "I would rather be dead than have such a thing occur." Militant Methodist Bishop Horace Mellard Dubose, the Tennessee League's president, regretfully proclaimed : "There is nothing we can do but sever him from the League. . . . The terrible curse of liquor...